Mirror, Mirror on the Wall
by mermaidgirl45
Summary: Little is known about the Mirror of Erised. How was it created, who exactly has gazed into it, what have they seen, and whatever happened to it?


**A/N: This is my very first story and I'm actually kinda excited. I do like to write, and helpful criticism is very welcome. Please tell me what you honestly think and let me know if you have any questions, comments, or suggestions! Enjoy! =)**

**Thank you, J.K. Rowling for giving us this incredible book series! All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.**

**Edit: A huge thanks to Analie209 for giving me the idea of people looking into the mirror and seeing only themselves. =) Thank you!**

Though he ruled many great lands, the king had only one son. This son's name was Erised, the word "desire" backwards. He was named such by the queen, for the queen was not his mother. Erised grew into a young man, and when his father passed away, became the king. The land was in a time of peace, and history passes over King Erised's uneventful rule. But it was during King Erised's rule that I was created. The king took a wife, and their marriage was celebrated throughout the land. She was a very beautiful, kind woman, and dearly loved by both the subjects and their king.

Not three years later, a bout of sickness had taken the life of the beloved Queen. The entire country mourned her lost, but Erised most of all. Erised grew depressed and grieved for years, mourning the loss of his wife. The king was part of an old wizarding family, and decided to create something that would enable him to see his beloved Queen again. Possessed with the idea of reuniting with his wife, Erised dabbled in powerful magic, trying to find a way to contact her. But as we all know, no spell can reawaken the dead. He could only come up with a shadow or imprint of her.

Erised placed this imprint in a mirror, but she would not stay. After years of trying, he finally enchanted the mirror to show only what he wanted the most - his wife. And she remained. He stared into that mirror for hours sometimes, and she would always be there. Rumors floated around that the king, crazed from her death, would stare into this mirror to see the beautiful woman. And so, it was from me that the phrase was coined: _"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, whose the fairest of them all?"_

Time passed, and I saw Erised's heart was still consumed with grief for his wife. He refuted all reason, and one day, staring at his wife, he never got up.

* * *

><p>Erised had only one child by his wife, and never married. This child became king. When the boy first saw me, I saw his heart. It was a fearful, timid heart. This king was younger, even than Erised. I sensed his fear, and, when he looked into me, he saw himself, ruling the kingdom with wisdom and grace. He was shocked at the image, even confused. He asked close friends and family to look into the mirror, and I showed them only the deepest desires of their hearts, as I was created to do. Most saw loved one's who had passed away. A few saw money, wealth, or even the throne.<p>

Erised's son eventually figured out what Erised created me to do. Finding it ironic that a mirror would show the inside of a person instead of the outside, he inscribed on me a phrase in the same backward language of his father: "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." I show not your face, but your heart's desire. I was moved into a rarely visited room in the castle, and I showed the heart's desire of the few servants who stumble upon me. It was through one servant that I learned exactly what power I held.

His name was Kendall, and he had newly come to the castle. His parents had been killed when barbarians had attacked their village. Kendall was still in shock, from the battle and from their absence. I was reluctant to, but I showed Kendall his life before, his parents alive and well. And he went to pieces. Kendall started screaming, attracting the attention of servants nearby. After he was taken out of the chamber, I don't know what became of him. But I was given to another old Wizarding family, and another, and another.

I was shown at dinner parties, as a side attraction. Kept in secret rooms, alone and forgotten. I showed each person who stood before me their true desires. Some saw money and fame, and some saw loved ones who had passed behind the veil. Several young women saw herself and a lover happily married. Several young men saw a woman of great beauty. _The fairest of them all._ I remember one little tyke wished only for a new toy, much to his mother's amusement. But not all wishes were merry. There were wizards who wished only for the destruction and pain of others and power and glory for themselves. Wizards wishing to take vengeance on another, or to rise to power. And, still some lookers lost their minds, either from the shock of seeing their recently lost loved ones, or through slowly wondering if what I reflected could be true.

* * *

><p>There was a time when wizards and witches were facing persecution at the hand of those who didn't understand magic. One such fearful wizard looked into me, and I showed him his true desire. An ambitious man, he wished to become a leader and resolve the conflict, through whatever means possible, so peace would once again be between the two worlds. He had three other friends, a wizard and two witches, and had them look into the mirror. They each also wished to end the fighting, but through different ways.<p>

These four friends eventually founded a school, and I was placed in a secret room, where few would find me. Among the few was an attractive young man, but I sensed great unrest in his heart. He came from a troubled childhood. His mother, a witch, had died alone and unwanted, and his father had been a muggle. This young man, a Slytherin named Tom, had such hatred in him. A hatred and a bitterness I had rarely, if ever, found in a heart. But more than that. At first, it seemed like contempt. A contempt for something so common, something that had taken such power away from his mother. But underneath the contempt, was fear - a fear of death. When this troubled young man looked into my glass, I showed him what he wanted most: immortality. Of course, no wizard may become immortal. But there are several ways of preventing a death. I showed him one. And I heavily regret such.

So transfixed with what I showed him, the young man stole and hid me in an empty classroom where he could study me and find out more information. I sensed that he wouldn't use this power for good. Indeed, whoever would create such an atrosity may not be capable of good. Each time he looked into me, I told him, "There is room in your heart for good. Seize it and cling to it and forget the evils that I have shown you." A few times, he saw his heart the way I did, and struggled with himself. But most times he ignored me. Eventually, I knew he had succeeded with at least one aforementioned horror. His heart was now full of even more pain, and his soul had become tarnished and shrunken. He mocked me. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, whose the greatest of them all?" He believed it was himself.

For many years afterwards, people would look into me, wishing to see wives, husbands, fathers, mothers, children, friends who died from that man's acts. It was raw pain, like I had often seen before, but I now knew a little of it.

* * *

><p>Years later, an old man, Dumbledore, found me. Tom had left me in this classroom, under an invisibility spell. It was this old man who had come into the room now, with long, long gray hair and glasses in the shape of half moons. He had sensed a strong magical trace in this room, and detecting the spell, found me. When he looked into the glass, I looked at his heart. Oh! Oh, such grief I had rarely seen before. It was raw and fresh and as new as it had been so many decades ago. This man had lost so many, and had such heavy burdens to bear. As kindly as I could, I created a picture of his family. His father and mother standing behind their children. His sister was alive and whole, and his brother had forgiven him for the whatever role he had had in the collapse of their family.<p>

He let out a loud cry. He sank to his knees in front of the mirror, and stared in dull shock. Soon the tears came, unstoppable. I couldn't bear his pain. I slowly whispered into his heart, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," a lesson I had learned through the years. The man slowly stopped his weeping. I asked Ariana's shadow to wave at Dumbledore, to beckon him onward. He understood. With whatever strength he had left, he got to his feet. Resolutely, he took one look at his family. His family together, alive and whole. "I regret it," Dumbledore began. His voice was as heavy as his heart. "And, I'm so sorry. To have caused you all so much pain. I wish I could relive it." More tears came. "But, I can't. So know that-" His voice cracked. "I love you." I wiped away the image. He didn't need to look at it any longer. Dumbledore turned and walked towards the door. To my satisfaction, he never looked back. Once again, I was left alone.

A few years later, a student hid inside my classroom. Dumbledore had not renewed the invisible spell, and his child decided to look into me. His heart held the usual: hate and love and joy and grief. I searched and found his parents inside his heart. The boy who had never had a proper family wished for nothing more than to see them. So, the boy's mother and father stood behind him in a great tumult of emotion, and the ancestors of his line all gathered around. . The boy, Harry, I believe his name was, sat transfixed and cried like so many others. But he came back again, and this time brought a friend, Ron. Now, Ron was interesting. Ron desired. . . recognition, I'd say. Not power, not fame, necessarily, but Ron felt eclipsed by his large family. He felt ashamed of their lack of money and wished for something that would distinct him, not only from his brothers, but from his peers as well. So, I gave Ron as much recognition as I could muster: Quidditch Captain, Head Boy, House Champion, NEWT Student, etc. The two started squabbling like two old owls over a treat and eventually left. But Harry returned often.

Once, during Harry's visits, Dumbledore slipped in unnoticed. "So - back again, Harry?" The two quietly discussed me. I realized in this moment the relationship between the two. Dumbledore was almost like a father to Harry. He held such burdens for this student, so many secrets that I feared for the boy. Dumbledore continued talking with Harry, glancing at Ariana's reflection every now and again. "Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?" I smiled to myself, as Harry took one last wistful look at his family. "Sir - Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?" And he asked Dumbledore what he saw in the mirror. And Dumbledore, eyes twinkling, passed over his wretched, pain-filled family history and warmly replied, "I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks." And Harry went to bed.

Dumbledore took a fresh look at the mirror and the image caused him as much pain as before. But, this time, he was at least somewhat prepared. The once faded faces resharpened in his mind, and the tears found their way. He sat for a few minutes, smiling at his sister, who smiled back. Seeing his mother alive and whole again, and his father free from Azkaban. And standing next to his brother, the two finally reconciled. He stood, on his own accord, and took out a strange looking stone. I could sense its power, even in my state. He vanished the stone, and, concentrating on it, conjured it inside me - much like Erised did with the shadow of his wife. How he specifically found the stone out of all the matter of the universe, undid Erised's protective magic, and magically hid the essence of the stone is beyond me. I gained new respect for the man, who obviously was extremely skilled. He bewitched me to only surrender the stone to the person who only wanted to _have _it and not _use_ it.

* * *

><p>He placed me in an underground chamber and left for a few months, until I was interrupted. This new gazer was quite curious indeed. For in one person I saw not one soul, but two. Unsure of what to do in such a strange situation, I reflected the heart of whoever was actually facing me. I nearly wept when I saw the rancor that had taken over Tom's soul, or rather, what was left of it. His soul was maimed and broken, and only a few shatters remained. I could hear the horrors he committed, screams echoing towards me. I was glad when he turned away, and I had the chance to examine his host. Quirinus's heart was something I had already seen before: a simple man desiring power at all costs. His powerful heart beat stronger than ever, but his soul was deranged. Fear had its place there as well, but I displayed his sole quest: to present the stone to his master, gaining his favor.<p>

The boy, Harry, slipped in. Quirinus demanded that Harry look into the mirror, at Tom's request. The poor boy. He was so scared. To give him some confidence, I had his mirrored self wink and smile at him. As, I dropped the stone into his pocket, I quietly wished him the best of luck. Tom and Quirinus assailed Harry but the boy stood firm. He fell unconscious after defeating the mangled pair and was soon rescued by Dumbledore, accompanied with a few other teachers. One man, with greasy black hair, stooped in front of me to examine the remains of Quirinus' turban as Dumbledore and another professor levitated Harry. When he looked up, I showed him the true desire of his conflicted heart: his childhood love who died in the great war. His heart held the name Sev. Sev dropped the cloth and stared in front of the mirror. The woman he loved, Lily, smiled back at him, holding his hand. His mouth gaped open and he made no sound. The two teachers had finished caring for Harry, and Dumbledore glanced over his shoulder. Seeing Sev in front of the mirror, he ushered the other professor onwards, and quietly made his way to Sev. Dumbledore put his hand on Sev's shoulder. "This mirror. . . Albus!" His voice broke. "I know, Severus." The two stood in silence, gazing at their deepest, most heartfelt wants.

"Severus. We must leave, and attend to Harry."

"No! Nothing else matters. Please. I just want to see her. A little longer."

"Have you forgotten your promise?" More silence.

"Severus. Leave her here. Lily is gone. You will see her once again, but right now the best way to honor her would be to fulfill your promise and tend to her son."

Sev remained silent. "Severus," began Dumbledore firmly. "This mirror can change nothing. Go to Harry. Inside Harry you will find Lily's spirit more than in an empty reflection."

"The boy is nothing like Lily! He is the image of his father!"

"And the heart of his mother! Severus, look past old prejudices and honestly look at the boy! He has Lily's eyes, and as they say, 'The _eyes_ are the windows to the soul.' "

Severus gazed at Lily, taking in everything about her. Her eyes. Her smile. The way her long hair always got into her face. Everything he had missed about her since that one horrible night. "He is nothing like her." And with the greatest resolve, he turned and strode towards the door. Dumbledore watched him slam the door, and turned back to me. His brother smiled at him. "Ah, Aberforth. As lovely as this has been, I'm afraid the time has come for us to part." Dumbledore thought it wise to remove me from Hogwarts, so as not to tempt any student or professor to return. He sent me to another family, the Flamel's, who decided to keep me in the corner of their second dining room.

* * *

><p>It was here that I found the father and son. Ah, yes, I remember. Over the many, many years since my creation, few have looked into me and seen themselves exactly as they are; they are utterly content, and I have nothing but admiration for them. I, if anyone, understands how man yearns for more: more possessions, more power, more money, more time. To have such happiness is a trait I have very rarely seen. I saw it again then.<p>

The Flamel's did not live exclusively in the Wizarding World, but somewhere near the countryside. My room was somewhere near the kitchen, where the Flamel's got their food from muggle farmers. It was, to be honest, slightly entertaining when they arrived in their muggle contraption. The cook would start panicking, rapidly casting spells to make sure all magic ceased. After such a duty one day, the farmer came in along with his young son of about ten years, both carrying baskets of fresh carrots and tomatos. When the farmer started a friendly conversation with the cook, his son stood by, a bit bored. He caught a glimpse of me in the other room, and checking over his shoulder at his father's conversation, slipped into my room unnoticed. He looked up at my engraving with curiosity, and then, glancing around again, he stood solidly in front of me.

Now, I had never had a muggle stand in front of me before. Based from what I knew of muggle interactions with wizards, I wasn't at all sure if I should reflect anything. The problem was solved however, when I looked at his heart. He was a simply boy. He had lived here all his life, and worked with his father. He hoped to be like him some day. But he required nothing more to make him happy. He was one of the very few I've seen that simply are happy where they are. So I reflected himself as is.

Upon seeing himself reflected, as in a normal mirror, he stared again at the engraving. At this point, his father spotted him in the other room. "Mark!" he cried. The cook paled as the father raced towards his son. "Mark! You cannot go off exploring! This isn't our home! We're simply here to deliver the vegetables!" Mark was defensive. "I know, Dad! I wasn't going to go far. I just wanted to look at this mirror! Isn't it huge? Do you know what that engraving says?" Bewildered, Mark's father skimmed the engraving and stepped closer. I found another simple heart. The man loved his beautiful wife, his joyful children, his humble home, and even his work. "No, I don't know what it says, Mark. The Flamel's are kind enough to buy from us, so I'd like to think we could be kind enough so as to respect their home." Mark knew he was beaten, but kept up a brave face and followed his father back into the kitchen. "I'm sorry," Mark apologized to the trembling cook. "Oh! It's no worry at all dear! No worry at all."

* * *

><p>As I wait for the next seeker to come stand in front of me, to empty his heart to me, and to see nothing but the deepest and most desperate desire of his heart, I remember all that has happened. I remember those who has lost the ones they love. I remember those who wish for nothing but evil, and wonder what will become of them. I remember those who lost their minds at the pictures I held. And thinking back to that quaint little nursery rhyme, I decide to create such a reflection of myself.<p>

_For I am the mirror, the mirror on the wall._

_Those who gaze believe I hold it all._

_Created to show what the heart wants most,_

_The ambitious see power; The mourning, ghosts._

_For I am the mirror, the mirror on the wall._

_Inside their dark hearts, I can find all._

_Some find love lost, some find what may be._

_Some find naught by their own insanity._

_For I am the mirror, the mirror on the wall._

_Through these long years I have seen all._

_Pray, Come and peer into my depths_

_I will examine your heart, and that I'll reflect._


End file.
